by Moore, Lila
Usually, people walked or picnicked in the park surrounding the lake, but this morning it was a ghost town. I took a step. My foot sunk into the mud with a wet, sucking sound that echoed across the water. There was a light splash from somewhere in the mist.
“Hello?” I called.
My voice echoed beneath the bridge and returned with a high-pitched whisper of: “Hello?”
My echoed voice sounded like a demented little girl. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I stepped away from the water and headed towards the bridge. I assumed Jillian had returned to her cabin. I would try and find her there. I quietly cursed her beneath my breath. Would it have killed her to wait for me?
When I reached the middle of the bridge there was a loud splash below me, as if someone had jumped in. I ran to the edge and looked over, but the water was as calm and flat as a mirror. I searched for any sign of movement, but found nothing.
As I peered down into the water, I couldn’t help thinking of Tom’s final moments. Had he leaned over the edge and looked down? Or had Mrs. Devereaux taken him by surprise and pushed him in? He probably didn’t have time to think about anything. His last moments were most likely filled with panic and fear.
Anger radiated through my body; my hands shook. The guilt I’d felt over Mr. Devereaux’s death vanished. He may not have pushed Tom into the water, but he helped cover it up.
The memory of squeezing the trigger flashed through my mind. I’d felt nothing but relief to see him fall. He’d help my husband’s killer get away with it, and he thought he could just as easily dispose of me. Mr. Devereaux learned the hard way that he can’t get away with everything.
I pushed on through the mist and came to Jillian’s house. The windows were shuttered and the house looked dark. I walked up to the front door and knocked. No one answered and I couldn’t hear anyone inside. Could she have gone down to the water? What if the splash I’d heard was her? I couldn’t imagine Jillian going into the freezing lake- not willing, anyway.
I pushed open the door to her cabin. I didn’t want to stand outside, exposed and vulnerable.
Inside was dark. Shadows danced across the walls but I couldn’t locate their origin. The room was disorienting. I felt like I was underwater looking up at the surface.
I moved along the wall trying to find the light switch. When I couldn’t find it, I moved to the windows and tried to open the shutters. I pulled hard, but they wouldn’t open. They appeared to be nailed shut from the inside.
Light drifted in from a window on the East side of the house. I went to it and was able to pull the shutter open a few inches. It was enough to cast a feint glow around the room. Through the crack I could see mist floating above the lake. The top of the bridge peeked out through the fog directly across from the window. Jillian had a clear view of everything that happened the night of Tom’s death.
“Keep it closed,” a voice said from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Jillian stood in the hallway. She was in the shadows, but I could see her long hair hanging around her face. Wide eyes stared out, unblinking and dark.
“They might be watching us,” she said.
I closed the shutter, but left it open an inch. I didn’t want to be left completely in the dark.
Jillian took a step towards me quickly, then stopped as if something was preventing her from moving closer. I stayed where I was. I was too afraid to move, but I wasn’t sure what the source of my fear was. Was it Jillian? The cabin? The lake?
Everything about this left me uneasy. What if I was sleepwalking? The thought flashed through my mind out of the blue. Could this be a dream?
I peeked through the crack in the shutter and looked at the bridge. The world outside was still and dreamlike. I closed my eyes, then put all of my weight on my bad knee. The pain was immediate and intense. Stars danced in front of my eyes; a wave of nausea passed through me. If I was sleeping the pain would wake me up.
I opened my eyes. I was still in the cabin. Jillian had moved back into the shadows. I could hear her laugh in the dark.
“You’re not dreaming,” she said. How did she know what I was thinking? “I know you better than you think,” she said as if reading my mind. “I am you.”
The floorboard creaked with her footsteps. I pushed myself flat against the wall.
“Or at least I used to be you,” she added.
“I don’t understand.”
“I was in the same position as you- a cheating, abusive husband. One day, I had enough. He came home drunk and angry… I knew it was either him or me. I’m still standing…”
“That’s not what happened with Tom. He never abused me and I had nothing to do with his death. I know because Mr. Devereaux told me what happened. His wife killed Tom and he helped cover it up.”
I sensed a shift in the dark.
“Then what were you doing on the bridge that night?”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t matter right now. Why am I here? What did you want to tell me? You said this was bigger than the Devereauxes.”
“Who are the Devereauxes?”
I pushed away from the wall. She was making me angry.
“Stop playing games. You told me you saw a woman wearing a scarf on the bridge with my husband- that was Mrs. Devereaux. They were having an affair,” I admitted reluctantly.
I shouldn’t be telling Jillian this. I could see Theo’s disapproving face in my head. I didn’t think Jillian would talk to the police given her history with them, but you never know. The less she knew the better. Still, I couldn’t help telling her what I learned. Once I started it was hard to stop. It felt good to confide in someone. Though, I didn’t tell her anything about what happened with Mr. Devereaux the previous night. She picked up on this immediately.
“Why did Devereaux tell you all this?”
“I confronted him about it a couple days ago. He confessed to me,” I lied.
Jillian stepped forward. Half her body was in the light; the other in the dark. She stared at me intensely. I looked away. I felt like a little kid lying to their mother.
“That’s not how it happened. Devereaux’s dead.”
The sinking feeling returned to my gut. I was having trouble breathing.
“He’s dead?” I tried to play dumb. My voice was barely a whisper; it sounded like the creepy echo I’d heard by the water.
“Dead and gone; never to return. But you already knew that. You were there. You killed him, just like you killed your husband.”
I didn’t feel like arguing with her anymore. I wanted to leave the cabin and return home to Theo. He was probably back by now and wondering where I’d gone.
I moved towards the door. Jillian cut me off. A flash of light caught my eye. When she stepped out of the dark, she had something shiny in her hand. Now her arm was behind her back hiding the object.
“It was you all along,” she said in a singsong voice.
I backed up against the wall. Jillian tilted her head to the side to consider me.
“How did a pathetic thing like you manage to kill two men? Look at you, you’re shaking.” She scoffed and frowned with disappointment.
I pulled open the shutters. There was just enough room for me to squeeze through. I had to leave my crutches behind as I threw myself out the window. I fell to the cold, wet ground, landing on my side. In an instant, Jillian was at the window staring down at me. She had an amused smile on her face.
“There’s no running away from this,” she said. “Your husband’s dead. It was you along. He deserved it after what he did to you.”
I half dragged, half crawled away. I couldn’t stand so I dug my hands into the mud and pulled myself along while kicking with my good leg. I kept my gaze on the lake. If I could make it to the water, I’d be alright. I had no idea why I was so sure of this, but it felt right.
Suddenly it occurred to me that this had to be a dream. You can’t really die in a dream, so I was safe. This thought d
id little to comfort me.
Jillian moved fast, too fast for a woman her age. She grabbed my wrist and held up my arm.
“Look what he did to you,” she said. “Look at it.”
I closed my eyes and turned my head away. I didn’t want to look at Jillian’s face. I half expected to see a twisted, nightmare creature before me. Jillian grabbed my face. Her touch burned my skin.
“Open your eyes,” she ordered.
I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could.
“Open them or you’ll never see the truth.”
Her nails dug into my wrist; my face burned like I’d had acid thrown on me. A sharp pain dug into my arm. I knew then that the object Jillian was holding was a knife. Searing hot pain cut through my arm as the skin parted against the blade’s edge.
“Open… your… eyes…” she said angrily.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I opened my eyes. What I saw left me confused. I expected to see a bloody wound on my arm, instead there was a scar. It ran across my bicep and around my elbow. I couldn’t remember ever seeing it before.
“Open your eyes,” she said again.
“They’re open.”
“Open your eyes.”
Jillian shook me violently. Suddenly, it was bright out. I was on the ground behind Jillian’s cabin. The lake was a few feet away. The mist had cleared. A gentle breeze blew across the water, chilling the air. Jillian was nowhere to be seen. In her place sat Theo. He held my wrist firmly.
“Sabine, open your eyes.”
He was trying to stay calm, but there was an edge of fear to his words.
“My eyes are open…” I said dreamily.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“Jillian wanted to talk to me. She said she knew about the Devereauxes so I followed her to the cabin.”
“There’s no one here. The place is all boarded up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said dismissively, but I was losing faith in my own sanity. I had a horrible feeling Theo was right.
I pushed myself up and tried to wipe off some of the dirt covering me. It did little good; I was filthy. Theo tried to give me a hand, but I pushed him away. I was suddenly angry at him. I’m not sure why, but I resented the fact that he saw me for who I am. Maybe because I was afraid that the real me was a raving lunatic. I don’t think Theo saw me that way, but it was a frightening thought.
I moved towards the house to examine it closer. The window I’d fallen through was open. Boards were scattered across the ground with nails sticking out of them. I must have pried them loose when I entered, or exited the cabin.
I leaned inside and looked around. The cabin was dark and empty except for some furniture that was covered with blankets. It didn’t look like anyone had lived here for a while.
“Sabine-”
“Please tell me she’s real, Theo. I don’t think I can handle it if you tell me Jillian doesn’t exist.”
“She’s real, sweetheart. After you told me about sleepwalking and meeting her on the bridge, I looked her up. It’s like they say: she killed her husband, most likely in self-defense.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t completely crazy. Jillian was real; I’d spoken to her and Theo confirmed her existence.
“But she’s not here now…”
“No,” Theo said delicately.
“It looks like she left town.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“You told me you come here when you sleepwalk. And I knew there was no way you could’ve gotten far on foot especially with your knee the way it is. Actually, I’m surprised you made it this far.”
I looked down at my arm. The scar was still there. I cradled my elbow, holding it to my chest.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No. I just…”
A memory lurked at the edge of my mind. I couldn’t quite hold onto it. I remembered raising my arm to block an attack. Cold, sharp pain shot through my arm, radiating up to my shoulder. A knife. I’d been cut. I leaned against the cabin for support.
“Sabine, I’m taking you home right now. I can tell you’re not well. I have no idea how you made it all the way up here from you house, but it can’t be good for your leg.”
Theo wrapped an arm around my waist. His arm tightened around me. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I pushed away from him.
“Don’t fight me on this,” he said. “You need to rest.”
“I can’t…”
I clutched my chest. Theo helped me sit down.
“Sabine, look at me.”
Theo took my hand and placed it on his chest. “I’m here. I’m real and I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”
“I can’t…”
“Yes, you can because I’m going to take care of you.” Theo brushed my hair out of my face. “You need to focus on what you can control. Take a deep breath and let it out. Then we’re going to walk to the car and drive back to your house. I’m going to take a look at your knee and then you’re going to bed. That’s all you need to do right now. Everything else will work itself out.”
“But it won’t…”
“It will.”
I could feel Theo’s heartbeat beneath my hand, strong and steady. How could he stay so calm? I felt like I was in the middle of a storm raging around me. At any second it could close in and destroy us both.
I stared into Theo’s eyes. My heart started to slow and match his steady beat. I nodded.
“Okay,” I said.
I still wore Theo’s coat. He wrapped it tightly around me, buttoned it up, then helped me to my feet. I stuck my hand into the jacket’s pocket and felt the switchblade knife. I ran my fingers over the length of it and thought of my arm. The scar looked old. Why couldn’t I remember where it came from?
24
I was lying in bed with Theo’s jacket wrapped tightly around me. I ran my fingers over the switchblade in my pocket again and again. When we returned home from the cabin, Theo insisted I take a pain killer then go straight to bed. I didn’t argue, but I was having trouble sleeping. I was afraid I’d wander off again. Theo said he wasn’t going to let me out of his sight, but I still worried. The last few days weighed heavily on me.
The scar on my arm itched furiously. Scratching it only made it worse; it was almost as if the source of the itch was burrowed deep beneath my skin.
I let go of the switchblade and rubbed my face. The pain killers left me foggy. When I tried to organize my thoughts I became confused.
I could hear Theo talking in the living room. Was someone here? His footsteps trailed down the hall to my bedroom. The door opened slowly and he peeked inside.
“You still awake?” he whispered.
“Yeah. I can’t sleep.”
“Do you want another pill?”
“No. They make me feel weird… like I’m detached from reality.”
I’ve been detached from reality for a long time, I thought sickly. I just didn’t know it until now.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.
“The Devereauxes’ nanny. Bella wants Aiden to come over and play after school. I told her that was fine.”
“You told them that was fine? Are you crazy? Aiden can’t go over there. Did you ever think to ask me? He’s my son.”
Theo came into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I thought you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up. You’ve been through a lot, not just these last twenty-four hours, but these last couple of years. I think the reason why you’re blacking out and seeing things is because you’re trying to remember. I think you want to piece things together, but you’re scared of what you’ll find. Imagining me killing Mr. Devereaux was a defense mechanism. You couldn’t handle being responsible,” he said. “Even though it was totally justified,” he added quickly.
I put my hand back into my pocket and touched the switchblade. The tension inside me eased.
“You don’t
have to worry about Aiden’s safety. Mrs. Devereaux will be working at her store until late, then she usually heads into the city with one of her boyfriends.”
“What about Mr. Devereaux? No one will wonder where he is?” I asked.
“No, not for a while. They’re used to him disappearing for days, even weeks on end. He has mistresses everywhere. A couple weeks ago he said he was going out drinking with friends and didn’t come home until six days later. Mrs. Devereaux didn’t even bat an eye. It will be a while before anyone becomes suspicious which is good for us. It will confuse the timeline. No one will know exactly when he went missing or who he was with.”
“I don’t like Aiden staying over there.”
“I don’t either, but it’s less suspicious this way. Besides, I don’t think Mrs. Devereaux would ever do Aiden any harm.”
“You don’t think? That’s not much of an assurance. This is my five year old son we’re talking about.”
“I understand. I would never put him in danger. He’ll play with Bella for an hour or two then I’ll call and have the nanny bring him home before Mrs. Devereaux gets off work, okay?”
Reluctantly, I agreed. Theo was right; the appearance of normalcy was important, but how long would we have to keep up this charade?
Theo touched my leg.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, meaning my knee. The pain killers took away most of the pain, but a dull throbbing still echoed through my leg.
“Okay,” I said.
Theo pulled back the covers and examined my leg. It was red and swollen. I was sure I’d done more damage to it since last night. Theo wanted me to go to the doctor but I refused. I couldn’t bear to answer the doctor’s questions. I’m sure he would have a lot of them. He’d explicitly told me not to do any physical activity. I was supposed to stay in bed. He would be upset I defied him and want to know why. I’m not a natural liar; I’m sure he would suspect something was up immediately.
A sharp pain shot through the scar on my arm. I jumped as if I’d been bitten.
“What’s wrong?” Theo asked.
“The doctor…”
